If you had asked, I would tell you I’d rather first buy my daughter a dress for a bar mitzvah, not a funeral. But like many aspects of life, I don’t get a choice about which coming of age event will come first in her life.
It’s a complicated feeling; our parental desire to shield her from witnessing such tragedy, combined with our inability to any longer control, reframe, muffle. There it is, life in it’s starkest.
I wish you a kind heart and the ability to, as much as possible, maintain your sense of self. Bon voyage.